All the Goings On in the Middle of the Night
by MaxRide05
Summary: Neville and who? Luna on the rebound? With Zabini? In the middle of the night - or is it early morning? Written for the Middle of the Night competition on HPFC.


**Written for the Middle of the Night comp on HPFC. In which things happen… you guessed it, in the middle of the night.**

**Rated T for… Luna's innuendo? Most likely. Its more for that then other… physical things.**

**First time writing Blaise/Luna. Was supposed to be a double drabble then it got away with me. Or should that 'from me'…? Anyway, I don't own HP. On another note I don't own the classical brilliance that is Big Bang Theory either.**

"No… Luna, wait. I-I can explain..."

"Save your breath, Neville Longbottom."

The thump that sounded must have been _the witch_ in the bedroom getting tangled in the sheets. Luna hoped she'd hit her head.

Malicious as that thought was Luna had never felt this way before. On the Hogwarts Express, in her fourth year, when Hermione Granger had insulted _The Quibbler_, and to some extent, her late father Luna's ire had been a very watered down version of this feeling inside her now. This demon.

Luna felt like she could _crucio_ them both now, though she didn't doubt she would feel some sort of remorse for her actions – her Gryffindor-esque rashness, she thought with a pang – later.

In the dim light of the living room, her back to an approaching Neville, she let her expression waver for one second to show how her heart ached. She fumbled for the pot of floo powder on the mantle which fell to the floor. It cracked open upon impact; it was strange how the jagged edges of the cracked pottery now resembled her heart. Once whole, and perhaps even held in Neville's hands (perhaps... she liked to think so) but now discarded and broken in a place of unimportance…

She crouched and brushed a handful of floo powder off the floor and into her hands. She stepped into the fireplace, smouldering embers under her bare feet and lifted her eyes to Neville's face, "Goodbye, Neville Longbottom."

He reached out for her. She threw down the powder and whispered the name of her destination. The last thing she saw before the rising green flames enveloped her wasn't the look on Neville's face – as if he'd been slapped by a wet Gulping Plimpy – no, it was the remorseful look on the face of the witch standing in the doorway, sheets wrapped around her nude body.

Ginerva Weasley. Her so-called friend.

Thank Merlin Harry was no longer with her, Luna thought.

When she reached her destination she nearly fell out of the fireplace. She gripped the sides and gingerly stepped out, the wooden floors soothing against her burning feet.

She collapsed on a leather sofa, knowing that her friend was home otherwise his floo wouldn't have been activated.

"Luna?" His sleepy voice said, right next to her it seemed. She must have 'zoned out' to not have felt - more like sensed - his presence beside her as she always had before (after all who wouldn't pay notice to a prickling senastion on their skin, like their hair standing on edge). She sat up, squinting into the slightly brighter, yet still low lighting, beaming when she caught sight of him.

"Oh, Blaise, you were right. He was…" Her unspoken words hung in the air like mist.

"And you're alright with that?" He eyed her smile warily. It made her want to laugh.

"Oh no, of course not, but if I start crying now…" The smile slid off her face and she looked down at her feet, "I may not stop."

"Melin, Luna!" It seemed he'd noticed her feet. She was proved right when she heard him _accio _his medical supplies. He knelt at her feet and lifted one gingerly.

"You silly witch. How many more times, wear shoes when you go out! _Especially_ if you're travelling by floo."

She smiled at his exasperation. It was reminescent of how they'd been reacquainted.

After the Battle he'd helped clean up Hogwarts alongside others (though he had supposedly been neutral in the war). The corridor she had been working on had been littered with debris and the like. And she had seemed to have misplaced her shoes again. That just had to have been the day she was most susceptible to wrackspurts. He had been passing through the corridor at the time and the rest, as they say, is history.

They'd been friends ever since.

After applying salve to her feet his nimble fingers had wrapped them in bandages and now he sat by her, her feet in his lap. His fingers were lightly running over one of her ankles. She could feel herself flush in a way she'd only done when Neville, sweet, dependable Neville had come up to her during the Battle proclaiming proudly for all to hear how mad he was for her.

A sigh escaped her lips as she looked down at her hands in her lap. She almost wished Blaise hadn't healed her feet, now she had nothing to distract her from the pain in her heart. Nothing greater than the pain in her heart…

Then she felt a warm thrill run through her and looked up. Her eyes locked with those of the dark-skinned Italian wizard beside her. Had his eyes always been such a sharp hazel? Oh… they weren't so sharp now. Perhaps it was a trick of the light but his gaze seemed particularly… smouldering, yes that was the word...

She appraised the wizard beside her who had now averted his gaze. He'd still held her eyes for longer than she could recall anyone else doing so. According to Ronald that was because her gaze was 'beyond freaky'. But then, also according to Ronald, Ginny and Harry were the best thing since his own chocolate frog card, and look how well they'd turned out…

Her lips twitched into a brief smile, though in truth it wasn't at all amusing.

A light pressure on one of her knees brought her out of her thoughts. "Uh-oh, you're smiling. Should I be worried?" Blaise joked lightly.

"No," Luna drew her feet away from Blaise and his delectable fingers. She curled her legs beneath her, watching Blaise watch her. She moved closer to him. "No, I don't believe so."

He was shirtless, how had she not noticed before? He was only clad in a pair of dark trousers. They looked shiny. She wondered if they were silk. Before she could question herself she reached out and touched Blaise's knee. She stroked the material with her fingers.

He made a sort of noise she imagined a Crumple Horned Snorcack would make. Sadly she only had _the Quibbler_ to go on as her expedition had been cut short. Cheating boyfriends and backstabbing witches that were once thought to be friends and all that.

"Is this silk?" She raised her eyes to meet his. How strange; his pupils seemed… more diluted than before.

"Y-yeah." A breathless whisper.

"Hmm… It's so soft."

Silence for a few heartbeats (and she imagined he could hear her's just fine).

"Are you… do you want to get into my pants?"

She nearly laughed. Instead she shuffled closer to him, on her knees. She laid her hand on his chest; it felt quite toned.

She wondered when it had suddenly gotten so warm and why she was only feeling it now - especially around her neck…

He averted his gaze from her own once again and his eyes flicked down to her clothes, which she had yet to change out of. All of a sudden she became aware of her fitted t-shirt and blue cropped jeans. She wondered if she should feel grateful that the Crumpled Horn Snorcacks had migrated to a warmer climate than Sweden. Least that's what Quibbler reader _MugLover98_ had said in their letter to the editor(s) – those being herself and Gabrielle Delacour.

His skin burned, the heat not unlike that of the embers in Neville's fireplace. "Do you have a fever?" She was determined not to think of _them_ right now.

"No..."

"If you say so." She leaned forward, bringing her face closer to his. Blaise's eyes snapped back to her face, widening slightly as he leaned back.

"You have beautiful eyes." In truth they were mesmerising.

"Thank you." His normally suave voice sounded strangled to her ears.

"Is everything alright?"

He nodded. The space he'd put between them had never seemed so far…

"_Are you… do you want to get into my pants?"_

"Maybe..." She pondered aloud. "I mean, you're nice, we're friends, and I like you so why not?"

She knew he hadn't meant literally (though she certainly wouldn't have minded that). No, he had meant 'do you want to engage in coitus?'; that sort of getting into pants.

And the reason she knew that? Ginny.

She had decided to educate Luna and Hermione on ways to get your wizard, the art of seduction, and all that, with the help of some old copies of_ Witch Weekly_. Hermione hadn't stopped laughing herself silly enough to take it seriously. And Luna, well… she had picked up some things. Even though she had told Ginny that her and Neville were going steady, though she hadn't yet, as Ginny had so bluntly put it, 'gotten into his pants'. (And Ginny herself had been in one of her 'broken up' stages with Harry. She'd called it a break.)

"What?" Blaise's voice took her from her musing. It was fairly high pitched. How had he done that?

"Mmm…" She stroked his chest absentmindly. Did she want to seduce Blaise? Would that ruin their friendship…? Well, if she didn't try she'd never know, would she?

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. They were nice and soft. A bit like Neville's…

She broke the chaste kiss. _Neville_…

Was she… oh, what was that phrase? On the rebound?

Luna remembered hearing the hitch in Blaise's already shallow breath before she'd pressed her lips to his. And even now, with her hand still on his chest he didn't seem to be breathing regularly.

So yes she probably was… Honestly… she – she wanted to kiss Blaise again. She didn't remember feeling like this with Neville.

"Y-you don't?" The second thing she registered after hearing the hope in Blaise's voice, and realising she'd spoken aloud, was his actual question.

"No." And that was the truth. "I-I haven't even cried over him yet, and it-Ginny…" Neville'd done it with Ginny. The same thing she'd been about to do just then with Blaise if she hadn't remembered him. "Oh…" Realisation struck her like lightning. She took her hand away from Blaise's chest, heard him sigh. In disappointment? Relief?

Her thoughts were quite scrambled. And she had a feeling wrackspurts weren't the cause. It wasn't sudden enough for that. "How could I not have seen it?"

"Seen what?"

Luna turned to face Blaise. "In your letter you said you'd seen Neville acting 'awful cosy' with Ginny." She even added in the inverted bracket thingies with her fingers, ignoring his wrinkling nose as she did. No, he didn't like when people did that but she was trying to explain something here.

"And so I have to wonder…" She took a deep breath, steeled herself. Then she cupped Blaise's face in her hands. The contrast between his coffee coloured skin and her porcelain pale skin was striking. Though she remembered his warm breath coasting across her skin as his jocular voice whispered in her ear, _"Don't we look good together?"_ during a trip to muggle London after they'd gone into one of those kiosk photo booths, she forced herself to focus.

Focus even though his personal scent of cologne and sweat and tears washed over her, either then or in memory (though she wasn't too sure who wore cologne to bed – unless of course they were trying to avoid the Colurnas Maskimas, yet Blaise had said that just knowing her would be enough to stop the swarm).

He was breathing deeper now, she realised, as she bought her face closer to his. This time he didn't pull away. No, now his hands were on her waist, pulling her closer. He must have felt it too.

Yet she had to be sure. "Can't you feel it?" her voice was quiet, whether because speaking any louder would break whatever it was between them, or because she felt a bit lightheaded – sans wrackspurts – she didn't know.

"Yes." He sounded so sure. His eyes flickered from her eyes to her lips then back. She nearly trembled.

"This might have been how they felt. Don't you see…? They-they went to the Yule Ball together; they had wonderful memories before me. What if their feelings just became too much? Like-like with us now?"

"Yeah, probably…" Luna dimly realised that she was straddling him and moved away, clearly hearing the hitch in his breath, the quiet groan that came from the same breath and seeing the smouldering – _definitely smouldering_ – look in his eyes. "So, what do we do now, Luna?" His low murmur made her sigh.

"Well… certainly not engage in coitus…" Luna smiled when she heard Blaise choke on his laughter. Then they sobered. "I… have to talk to Neville. What I felt before – that anger… the-the _betrayal_… I didn't like it."

She stood, smiling when she realised her feet were almost done healing. They only ached a little now. Like her heart.

She smiled again as Blaise stood, took her hands in his. "You're like my healing salve." They fit in a way she and Neville could never have. It was a strange, but welcome realisation.

He smiled too, eyes locked onto hers even as he raised one of her hands to his curved lips. "Glad I could help."

**Right… soo. Not much of a Luna/Neville shipper (or Ginny/Neville for that matter… I think) and I think Blaise/Luna works better. What do you think?**


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